


Personals

by Nero_the_third



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Boarding School, But it's going somewhere, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Love, Love Letters, M/M, New York City, Nico-centric, Personal Ads, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, no powers, not sure where this is going, solangelo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nero_the_third/pseuds/Nero_the_third
Summary: Solangelo AU – Nico Di Angelo is living in New York City in the late 1940’s, and he puts out a personal ad looking for a “friend.” One applicant shines brighter than the rest.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Will Solace
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Personals

“A young man seeks male friends; anyone brave and kind may apply.”

 _There, that seems decent_ , Nico thought. It said everything it needed to, and had a low word count so the advertisement wouldn’t cost too much. While he could afford more, Nico figured that a concise sentence was better than a paragraph of rambling. This type of thinking was probably what forced him to ask for friends in a newspaper; being short and preplanned, never letting himself be open about what he wanted. But how could he be? The world wasn’t ok with—

 _Stop thinking so much_ he told himself. As a distraction, he looked over the rest of the page, filled with his previous attempts:

“Male looking for a replacement for a rejected love.”

“Attractive boys please write me.”

“An Italian would like a friend.”

“Hi my name is Nico and I can’t talk to anyone about this but I really want a guy to hug.”

There was a great number more, but Nico couldn’t bear to see them again, so he quickly ripped the page out of his typewriter and sheered off everything except for his perfect ( _well, at least decent_ ) ad. He slipped the paper into an envelope, already postmarked with the address of the New York Herald Tribune, and sealed it shut.

The moment began to crystalize as Nico stood there, ad in hand. It felt as though his whole world depended on this. For years he’d felt lonely, and even though he’d learned to make a few friends, he was still missing that more fulfilling type of companionship. He had no way of knowing what to do for himself, no idea where to begin looking for the kind of partner he wanted. Then, in a café he’d overheard two men discussing the personal ads section, and the idea came to him. But now, on the edge of sending it out, Nico stalled. What if no one realized what he was really asking for? Or, worse, what if people did, and they tried to hurt him because of it? _I don’t have to send it_ he told himself.

 _Oh Yes you do_ he argued back. _We’ve been over this. I can’t keep pining over Percy—_

Oh shit. Percy. Why did he have to think of Percy? Why did every thought in his brain always find some way of tying itself back to Percy Jackson? Nico shut his eyes, and forced everything out of his head, until the only thing left was his breathing. With a huge inhale, he stood up and bounded out of his room, seizing on his impulses before he decided against it.

It was the early afternoon, meaning the hall was empty of its boarders. The boys were probably all out harassing tourists or playing football in a park, activities that never appealed much to Nico. He loved the quiet stillness of the dormitories, the way you could appreciate the groaning of the floorboards and the squeaking pipes. Right now, his appreciation of the little things was pushed to the side, as he nearly leaped down the spiral stairs, threw open the front door, and dashed down the street to the post box. He slipped the letter in, and let the metal door clang closed.

A wave of relief washed over him. It was done. Now, he only had to wait and hope.

Nico took a moment to straighten his uniform, tucking his white button-down back into his slacks, and smoothing out the black sweater he wore on top of it. Mid-April was certainly not sweater weather, far too hot for them really, but Nico preferred it. He’d rather wear that than one of those hideous sports jackets the other boys wore. Plus, this way, he could dress in almost all black and still look “school appropriate.” The color just appealed to him, what was he supposed to do about it? A sports jacket felt too American, where as his black sweater made him feel different, more European. More like a DiAngelo then a Jackson or a Grace.

He started back down the street, and hurried up the steps of the Chiron Academy for Boys. It wasn’t that New York City scared him, it didn’t, but Nico preferred to limit his time outdoors to a minimum, at least during daylight hours. He loved the subway anytime, and after the sun set, the city became the most magnificent place to explore in all the world. But blue skies, birds singing and leaves rustling were things he simply didn’t have time for.

Back in his dorm room, he carefully picked out all the scraps of paper that might incriminate him, balled them up, and carried them into the bathroom to set them on fire. He watched the paper burn quickly and turn to black ash on the white shower tile. Then he returned to his bed, picked up his fiddle, and began to practice.

One week passed with no mail, and Nico tried to not think about it.

Two weeks passed with not a single letter, and he started to get angry.

It was midway through the third week without any correspondence and Nico had become a short fuse. He’d stopped waiting for the postman, he lashed out anytime someone spoke to him (even if it was Jason or Leo) and he hardly ate. The shadows under his eyes grew darker as he lay in bed at night, thinking that of course this would happen, he would try to put himself out there and no one would care about him, no one could spare a moment of thought for him, and they don’t have any reason to anyway.

Then, that afternoon as he slumped his way back from class, Mr. D handed him an entire stack of envelopes, held together by a rubber band. At first, Nico didn’t really understand, but after a second, his heart jolted to life and started to race.

“These are, apparently, all for you.” The headmaster’s lip curled into a small sneer, as if he couldn’t believe anyone at all would write Nico.

Nico reached out for them and pulled the letters close to his chest. Mr. D was notoriously cruel, with a tendency to drink throughout the day, and a worse tendency to get meaner the more he drank. But it was only just past noon, and his breath didn’t reek of liquor yet, so Nico decided he could chance a snarky reply.

“They’re letters” Nico said, “from all of my secret lovers.”

A small smile spread onto Mr. D’s face, and he nodded slightly.

“I’m sure they are, Mr. DiAngelo.”

“Letters from your secret lovers?” Came a voice from behind Nico.

_Son of a fucking--_

Pollux came up behind Nico, putting a meaty hand on Nico’s shoulder. Nico turned to face the bigger boy, looking up at his chubby, acne spattered face.

“By the looks of it you’ve been fucking broads all over Manhattan, let’s see a few then!” Pollux continued, reaching a hand out to grab onto the stack of envelopes.

Nico pulled back, eyes narrowing. There was no way anyone was getting their hands on these letters.

“Fuck off Pollux. Doesn’t your dad teach you not to touch what isn’t yours?”

Pollux’s smile was much like his fathers, full of spite and distaste. “My father owns everything in this building, and he probably owns you, so those letters are mine.”

“That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say yet.” Nico turned and bolted up the stairs, stopping to shout back down, “but I’m sure you’ll surprise me again in a few days!” Then it was down the hall and into his room. He slid the window open, and hopped out onto the stone sill. The small backyard sat three stories below, but the prospect of falling no longer scared Nico. He wasn’t very tall, so he had to jump to get his hands around the stone above him. That first jump was always thehardest part. But once his hands clung to the rough brick, and he found some footing on the other stonework, he began to climb up the side of the building.

His fellow boarders would often speak of how Nico seemed to disappear into thin air, or magically appear places around the building. It scared them all, which pleased Nico. Of course, he had no special powers, but he had learned every inch of the outside of their school, and could climb around it with ease.

From his third-floor room, he climbed three more stories to the roof of his building. Pulling himself over the brick, he sunk to the cool gravel that lined the flat rooftop. He took the letters out from his pocket and slipped off the rubber band. He counted 17 in total. _17 people want to write to me_. Nico was elated.

He ripped open the top envelope, and pulled out the first letter. It began:

_Greetings young man. I am Minos, and you could say I’m pretty much a king here in New York. I I might not be the best looking man, but I could get you anything you want, if you would come meet me for…_

Nico stopped reading. Here he had been worried no one might get why he put the ad out, and the very first one was inviting him to an apartment to have sex. Which wasn’t really what Nico was hoping for. He folded the letter back up, and moved onto the next one. It didn’t have any header, only starting with:

_Young man seeks a friend_

_I could be that friend to you_

_I am very cool._

And that was enough of that one. The poetry was terrible and whoever wrote it had way too big of a head. The third and the fourth letters were, for other reasons, equally distasteful. It was starting to seem like personal ads only attracted weird strangers when he opened the fifth letter, and immediately noticed it was different than the rest. The letter was handwritten in somewhat sloppy cursive; not bad enough that it couldn’t be read, but still, who didn’t own a typewriter? Putting aside his distaste for the look of it, Nico began to read:

_Hello! Nice to meet you, my name is Will. I’ve never written to anyone like this before, so I’m not sure where to start. I guess at the beginning! I was born in Texas, but when I was around 12 years old my mother brought me to the city. It feels like a different country here, but I love it._

_Speaking to your qualifications, I don’t know how brave I am, I’d like to say I am pretty brave, but I’m really not sure. I wanted to be brave and go fight in the war like my brother, but my mother wouldn’t let me. I could have, if I wanted to, because I am 20 years old, but someone had to take care of my mom. I did that. In a way, that’s a type of brave. But I am definitely kind! In Texas, I would say hi to every person I saw on the street, even if I didn’t know them. I still try to do that here, but it gets pretty hard!_

_What’s your name? Are you from the city? How old are you? Do you have a favorite animal? Mine is a lion. What’s your favorite thing to do here? Do you like the pizza? I think it’s a little too thin, but everyone tells me I’m wrong._

_Anyway, I don’t want to keep you for too long. I wrote a longer draft of this, but then I realized no one would read a three-page letter from a person they don’t know._

_I hope to hear back and learn a little about you!_

_From,_

_Will_

Nico put the letter down, and then read it over again. The paper almost radiated warmth, a happy energy that soaked into Nico and made him feel really, truly excited. Like he hadn’t felt in a long time. He had to write back.

Not bothering to read the rest, he left the unopened letters on the roof and clambered back down to his room. He sat down at his desk, read the letter one more time, and then he began to write.

_Hi Will,_

_My name is Nico. Something tells me you’re younger than 20 years old, but it’s okay, so I am. I’m really only 16, but I put my advertisement out there in hopes someone around my age would write me. I am not from New York, I was actually born in Italy, and my mother brought me to America when I was 10…_

**Author's Note:**

> All ye here be warned! I want to write more of this but I'm so bad at making myself write! I start things and then have trouble finishing! My plan is to have this go at least a couple chapters, but updates will probably be very slow. Also, at a certain point I feel like these are more the fanfiction versions of Nico and Will than the real versions of Nico and Will. Which apparently bothers some people.


End file.
